A Lesson From Grass Snakes
by Hellie Ace
Summary: 2p! AU. USUK. Snakes are often demonized as a symbol of evil. Their bite is feared. Their smooth bodies are repulsive. Their soulless eyes the stuff of nightmares. But what are they beneath the surface? Arthur Kirkland has always seen what others cannot despite his blindness, and a man feared is one he wants to know. Maybe Alfred is the snake that heals, rather than one that bites.


**_A Lesson From Grass Snakes_**

**A small gift fic for my amazing and might-as-well-be sister, Ahro! The poor lady works too damn hard for her own good. So here, babe, have a little 2p!USUK to take the edge off. :)**

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"So you actually do live here?" Arthur wondered aloud, his hand firmly set on Alfred's arm. The cool draft in the house confirmed Alfred's tale of living in the broad Virginian Victorian. When the man had walked onto his porch he hadn't believed him at first, especially when the younger had told him he was a simple landscaper with a big blue truck.

"Sure do," Alfred affirmed, smiling down at the smaller man. He looked positively adorable in his big turtleneck sweater, pressed close to the younger. Bright auburn eyes were hooded in content at finally bringing Arthur to his home, even if it was only a bloc or so away from Arthur's own. It took a lot of convincing to coax Arthur away from the safety of his home though. The landscaper had had to learn that over quite some time spent with the smaller man.

He'd met Arthur about eight months ago, having been walking about his new neighborhood, advertising for his landscaping business. He'd tried handing Arthur his card upon walking onto his porch and seeing the blue-eyed man pleasantly watching his cat roll in the garden. Only he hadn't really been watching, and he wouldn't take Alfred's business card. And when those strange pale blue eyes turned to him, Alfred understood exactly why.

Arthur had apologized, closed his eyes and held his hand out. The landscaper gingerly placed the card in his hand, knowing it would be entirely useless, and had asked Arthur for his name.

"Arthur Aston Kirkland."

"Like an Aston Martin?"

"Yes, like an Aston Martin." Arthur nodded with a smile.

"Ahh," Alfred started, awkwardly rubbing his arm. "I bet you get that a lot, don't you?"

"No. I don't have many visitors."

"What about friends?"

"Most have moved away. They were too ambitious for a quiet neighborhood like this."

"That's a damn shame. I used to live in Philly and in Norfolk, but it's nothing like this. I like the quiet countryside a lot more."

"It's very nice out here, isn't it? I never had a fondness for city living."

Alfred nodded, and let the silence lapse between them. It was only after he realized he was staring at the blue-eyed man that he began to awkwardly shuffle his feet. He'd never been good with dealing with quiet people, despite naturally being reserved before his injuries. He'd had rowdy friends and an even rowdier persona he liked to flaunt back home in the city. But since being discharged from the Navy and moving out to the Virginia countryside, he'd kept mostly to himself.

It wasn't from lack of trying though. From the start, Alfred had made a bad impression with the more conservative older couples that lived out here. His massive blue truck with his Harley Davidson in the back had stunned them. His sleeve tattoos had disgusted them. His tight, ripped jeans and exposing shirts had startled them. The scars upon his face had frightened them even more.

Really, Alfred hadn't thought first impressions through.

But Arthur couldn't see any of that. And that was what had initially drawn Alfred to Arthur in the beginning. Although Arthur hiring him to tend his gardens was certainly good for such a relationship. After all, bills didn't pay for themselves, and the Victorian he rented wasn't cheap by any means.

But after the first day of work, Alfred hadn't expected to be handed a six-figure check.

"Holy shit!"

"Please don't swear."

Alfred clasped his hand over his mouth. Stunned, he'd looked to Arthur, but the smaller man only stood before him in a red sweater vest and with a happy smile.

"A-arthur, I- I can't accept this. This is an insane amount!"

"My neighbor Tino came over after you left a few days ago. He told me you rented the old manor on the other side of the Bird Song Street. I know the owners were asking for a high price on the rent. And I'm a tad bit scattered. I tend to forget, and I'd hate for you to get in trouble for not having the rent because of me."

"This is a huge amount though! I don't charge that much!"

"It's for a year. Tino helped me do the calculations with rent and bills. That should be enough to take care of everything along with extra spending for yourself."

"Y-you don't even know me..." he murmured, so unsure of how to respond to this man.

Arthur shrugged.

"It's just money."

"Yeah, money that pays _your_ bills."

"I have plenty. My parents left me the family fortune when they died. Well, most of it anyway."

"I- I- I don't know what to say."

"'Thank you' is usually an appropriate response."

"Thank you."

Arthur smiled, hands clasped behind his back. He didn't seem altogether unnerved by the awkward silence that fell over them again. Alfred had had to learn that Arthur often fell silent when he was just thinking. The man turned in on himself often. Alfred rationalized it was because he lived alone, no longer had friends, and had to rely on his kind neighbor Tino for many things. He had only himself for company.

Alfred had stayed a little longer that day, just wandering around Arthur's home as the smaller man carefully followed his footsteps. It was almost as if he weren't blind as he nimbly navigated his home. Of course Alfred had asked for permission to view the grand Victorian he lived in, but he found it somewhat strange that Arthur was never more than a few steps behind.

If Alfred looked back though, Arthur would stop at the moment Alfred did and smile shyly. It was such an infectious smile, that before the younger could even think to stop, he was matching that little grin. Even if Arthur couldn't see, it was almost as if he sensed the change in Alfred's generally reserved mood, and he would nod his head. They toured the home for about an hour, and at which point Arthur offered him late lunch.

But Alfred had had to decline. While he was usually not one to turn down food, he had the decency to realize he was being intrusive. Arthur hardly knew him and had already paid for his living, showed him his home and was now offering for him to stay for a meal. While the final paled in comparison to graciousness of the first two, it pushed a boundary once Alfred realized there was one.

He knew it was the loneliness that had made it hard to see at first. There was no way to explain why Arthur kept smiling that way, silently asking Alfred to linger, wishing he didn't have to go. Arthur was blind; he couldn't judge Alfred for his looks. He couldn't understand that he probably shouldn't be associating with someone that happened to look like a career criminal.

It was an innocent longing for companionship. And that touched Alfred more than he cared to admit for barely knowing the man.

But that feeling hadn't left. Every day Alfred arrived in the morning to find Arthur sitting quietly on his porch, blindly watching his cat play. And everyday Alfred would walk him into his house, sit with him, talk and just keep the older company. If he had no work to do in the garden, he would bring his iPod and let Arthur listen to his music. The smaller man would grin at the strange music Alfred loved, but would listen to it all and describe how he felt about it to Alfred.

The younger would smile at every word. Arthur had a sweet, kind voice: one that enthralled him, though he never admitted it to the blue-eyed man.

And if he did have garden work, Arthur would sit beside him and chatter. Alfred would nod, and comment in turn, still not quite used to Arthur being unable to read his gesticulations. It wasn't horrible though, and it honestly kept Alfred focused on actually spreading mulch rather than flailing his hands.

The months progressed smoothly after that was all established. Despite the routine, everything felt new. Arthur talked, Alfred listened. Alfred talked, Arthur listened. It was quiet agreement, one Alfred found he loved.

He only broke it once though.

They'd been out back in Arthur's rose bushes. The sun was high in the sky, beating down on Alfred's back while Arthur sat in shade of the bushes, smelling of sunscreen as always. The younger's skin was far less delicate, having a permanent tan from his active outdoor lifestyle since a young age. Alfred had been talking about his days as a Navy mechanic when he suddenly stopped and Arthur heard the rustle of mulch.

"Alfred?"

"It's nothing."

"No, no! What happened!"

"I caught a grass snake." Arthur heard a clattering from Alfred's gardening box.

"What are you doing?"

"I'm going to kill it."

"No! Why?"

"It's a snake, Arthur. It could bite you."

"But grass snakes are harmless!"

"Wild animals are not harmless, Arthur. They bite and carry disease. I don't like it out here with you."

"Please don't kill him!"

"Arthur-"

"Please!" Arthur pleaded, knotting his fingers in Alfred's shirt. His unseeing eyes blinked up at Alfred, and the younger had to swallow a lump in his throat. The smaller looked so heartbroken, and over a measly snake too. Blowing out a sigh, he relented.

"Fine," and he set the trowel down. The smile that lit Arthur's face had Alfred bowing his head in shame. He'd almost just gravely upset his employer. Well, more than employer. Alfred had admitted to himself that Arthur was certainly his friend, and as the days crept by, maybe even more.

"Did you release it?"

Alfred blinked, looking down at the little green snake in his hand. It was currently wiggling and trying to bite through his glove, but its tiny teeth were no match for the leather exterior.

"No."

"May I touch it?"

Alfred carefully held the snake behind its head, lowering it into Arthur's outstretched palms. He watched for any signs the snake might bite, but the little snake simply tried crawling over Arthur's hands. The blue-eyed man grinned, laughing at the ticklish feeling of the grass snake's smooth scales on his fingers.

"I've never held a snake before."

"There's probably a good reason for that."

"Don't say it like that please. Just because it's a snake doesn't mean it's going to kill me." He sounded rather upset and Alfred rubbed his temples. He hated hearing that heartbreaking tone in the older's voice.

"I'm sorry."

"Scary things aren't always bad. Everything has value and meaning, even if people can't see it. A snake may be scary, but that doesn't make it evil."

"I suppose."

Arthur cradled the snake, seeing as it had settled and was pleasantly coiled up around his fingers.

"Do you think he'll stay in the garden?"

"It's likely."

"That's good. I like him."

Alfred gingerly lifted the snake from Arthur's hand, setting it down in the mulch. The grass snake quickly slithered away, vanishing into the tulip shoots. He waited a few moments, gathering his thoughts before rising to his feet. He dusted the mulch off his knees before removing his gloves to offer Arthur his hand.

Upon standing, Arthur startled him by suddenly hugging his thick chest.

"Thank you for sparing that snake, Alfred."

"Yeah, sure." Alfred practically groaned, cheeks ablaze with a bright blush. He gently patted the older's back.

That had been about a month ago. Afterward, Arthur had taken to touching Alfred more. Not immensely intimate touches, but he would graze his hands or hold onto his arm. Alfred hadn't complained once, mostly because he could blush all he wanted and Arthur would never see.

That new fondness for touch was apparent as Alfred led the older up the stairs to his room on the third floor. Alfred held onto his arm rather then the rail, taking the stairs fairly easily. Arthur's handicap never really felt like a handicap, as far as Alfred was concerned. The man had a hell of a talent for avoiding furniture.

Though it did make Arthur insecure. He knew his house perfectly. He knew to step a bit off to the right to avoid clipping the coffee table. A sharp left four steps from the front door was the easiest way into the kitchen. The book shelf also had a notorious record of being too far forward and so it was wise to walk in an arch around it to prevent stubbing a toe.

But all those things were his home. He knew every inch, and could navigate it by memory. Even his garden was fairly easy to traverse. He knew where Alfred had planted each flower bed and where all the stepping stones he'd laid were. Arthur had no trouble with the home he'd lived in his entire life.

It was leaving that house that was the problem. The blue-eyed man didn't have a need to leave, and so never did. Tino used to bring him his groceries and made sure the smaller was still okay every few days. Alfred did all of these things now, and so Arthur still had no reason to leave.

It was upon telling Alfred he hadn't left the neighborhood in years that Alfred had insisted they go out. Arthur had adamantly refused, sputtering in fear. What if he got lost? What if he broke something? What if he walked into traffic? Naturally Alfred had insisted he'd be right there for Arthur, but the older had refused. He didn't like the idea of leaving the quaint neighborhood in the Virginian countryside. He hadn't been away since he was a teen, why go out there now?

It had the potential to break down into a fight, but upon seeing Arthur so distraught to the point of shaking, Alfred had immediately shut up about it and comforted the smaller.

Alfred had suggested afterward that maybe they could start small. Arthur had looked apprehensive over a plate of saltine crackers at the idea. But Alfred had started incredibly small.

"I want you to come to my house. I've seen where you live, and I want you to see my home. Well, not see but-"

"I understand. I- I think I can handle that."

Alfred had smiled. And that's how they'd ended up in Alfred's bedroom, essentially.

"It's kind of surreal. I've only ever been in Tino's house besides my own." Arthur sat down on Alfred's bed, trying not show his strange giddiness. Something about being in Alfred's home, alone with Alfred himself, made him feel like a teenager: stealing time away from the prying eyes of parents to hide out with a boyfriend. The little idea had his stomach knotting up and he worried his lips some. He felt the bed concave a bit with Alfred's weight as he sat down beside the older.

"Do you like it? I tried to make some broader pathways by moving the furniture a bit."

"Did you? That's nice. I do like this place though. It smells like you."

"Heh," Alfred laughed nervously. "Is that good?"

Arthur nodded, mustering up his courage as they fell into their comfortable, routine silence. His fingers glided to touch Alfred's. The younger made a noise in his throat to indicate the older had his attention.

"When you first arrived, Tino told me you looked terrifying."

"Oh."

"But I don't believe that. You sound handsome to me."

"Arthur, I really don't think handsome has a sound."

Arthur smirked, but continued on.

"Would you tell me what you look like?"

"I look like me. You really shouldn't worry about it."

"Alfred," Arthur whined, disappointment leaving a sour taste in his mouth. Why wouldn't Alfred tell him what he looked like? He wasn't going to judge the younger if maybe he wasn't the most attractive man. Arthur wouldn't mind.

"Listen, Arthur, I'm really not that much of a looker. Promise you're not missing anything."

"Please?"

A sigh, and Alfred was knotting his fingers nervously. Where to start?

"I have tattoos."

"Well, that's vague. Where?"

"My arms and chest."

"Is that why Tino said your were scary? Are your tattoos vulgar or something?"

"No, not at all. It's simply because they are tattoos. People don't stop to see what's on my arms. They just see the ink and are scared. They think I'm some kind of felon because I paint my skin in ink. They fear what they refuse to understand."

"Like that little snake."

"What do you mean?"

"All people see is a snake. They don't stop to realize it's harmless and easily scared. It's a living creature that doesn't deserve to be demonized just because of how it looks."

"I never thought of it like that."

"That's usually the problem," Arthur said, skimming his hand up to Alfred's arm. His fingers pressed against the skin, trying to fathom what Alfred might have inked into his skin. "But what are your tattoos?"

"My arms are roses on a black trellis."

"Both arms, all the way up?"

"Yeah. The arch of the trellis is the curve of my shoulder. The pegs and roots come down my fingers."

"Wow... what color are the roses?"

"What color do think?" Alfred smirked, knowing the default answer would be red.

"White."

Alfred blinked, stunned the smaller man had guessed correctly.

"How did you know?"

"Red isn't a color I associate with you. You're too calm and quiet for a color that means passion."

"Hope you're not saying I'm cold." Alfred chuckled lightly, enjoying the feeling of Arthur's hands on him. They were soft, innocently exploring as they spoke. Just being touched by Arthur felt good, regardless of the intentions. It felt like the man was making a mental map of Alfred's skin. One he could default to and add on with every stroke or brush.

"No. Not cold at all. But there's something else in your tattoos, isn't there?"

"Are you sure you're blind?" Alfred shook his head, marveling at the incredible way Arthur seemed to know all these things he shouldn't possibly be able to.

"Quite sure," Arthur returned, resting his head on Alfred's shoulder. The younger bit his lip, the strong urge to wrap his arm around the smaller becoming almost impossible to overcome. He had to distract himself with words.

"There's a snake on one of the trellises."

"Is he green?"

"He is. He's the only true color in my arm tats."

"What is he doing?"

"He's coiled through the trellis, head resting on a rose."

"That sounds really beautiful."

Alfred nodded, and silence descended once more. Normally, silence was a time for a stillness between them. It was sort of stop to time. Just a moment between them. And where Alfred had once found that entirely unnerving and awkward with a man he didn't know, it was entirely natural now. Arthur's silences were a moment for Alfred to really observe, and it was obvious Arthur was feeling that this bond they had was deeper than a friendship. The way he held to Alfred's arms, how his fingers pressed soothingly to his skin, the way he breathed in his scent with hooded eyes. The quiet always revealed so much, and the feeling of longing was finally too much.

He found himself pulling Arthur into his lap, thick arms gentle around the slighter man. Arthur didn't fight him, simply resting his head against the younger's chest. He tucked his legs beneath him, curling up with Alfred's arm wound about him.

"Is this okay?" Alfred murmured into soft strands of wheat-gold hair. Arthur nodded his head, blind eyes shut and a soft smile gracing his thin lips. Alfred's hands rubbed his side, feeling so strange holding someone. His mind was adrift in strange emotions he really didn't understand or know how to deal with. So he avoided admitting it, for once initiating the quiet.

And then it struck him. Is this why Arthur always fell silent? Had he been feeling that infatuation all those times when they had been comfortable without words, just grappling with want? That internal writhing, a feeling of submission to his own emotions, was that Arthur's constant battle for all the times Alfred had not broken through?

He pulled the smaller even closer, trying to apologize for his intentional obliviousness. He'd had such trouble reading the man. He'd known Arthur had been lonely when he first met him, but this was beyond loneliness.

But he didn't want to think about it. He didn't want to imagine Arthur trying to pine over him, hoping Alfred would be interested in something more than their strange relationship. He'd been like Arthur's caregiver, and the idea of being more seemed to once again be crossing boundaries that he'd never thought to acknowledge before.

Arthur snapped his thoughts with words whispered into the thin cotton shirt he wore.

"Can I ask a favor?"

"Anything," Alfred agreed, auburn gaze settled on Arthur's form.

"May I touch you?"

Alfred sputtered, suddenly holding Arthur at arms length. His eyes were wide, and Arthur looked just as startled held by the shoulders by the larger man.

"W-what?"

Arthur suddenly laughed.

"I meant, may I touch your face? I didn't mean it so-"

"Sexually?"

"Y-yes. That."

Alfred breathed a quiet sigh, yet his heart raced at the notion of that kind of touch, especially from those slender, familiar hands.

Suddenly blushing, Alfred shook it off before coaxing Arthur back towards him. He removed his glasses, setting them on the pillow. The smaller seemed delighted by the guiding hands bringing his own up to Alfred's jaw. Fingers gliding along the sharp curve, Arthur sucked in delighted breath. Moving up, he felt the texture of Alfred's skin change.

He traced the odd skin up Alfred's cheek and across the bridge of his straight nose. It felt smooth, but not the same smooth of clean skin, but slick, reminding him of the belly scales of that tiny grass snake.

"What are these?" Arthur inquired.

"Scars."

"You said you were a Navy mechanic and you were discharged for injuries, right?"

"Yeah."

"Are these what you meant?"

Arthur felt the sharp exhale brush against his face before Alfred affirmed the discovery. Fanning out his fingers, his hands moved on without any further need for explanation. He didn't care that Alfred's face was scarred. Tino had said it made him look terrifying, and his tattoos had convinced his skittish neighbor that Alfred was trouble incarnate. He couldn't see it; it didn't bother him.

However, and for some strange reason, Alfred was entirely shocked by that. Arthur could feel the tense way the auburn-eyed man's hands gripped his clothing. Then again, Alfred tended to be shocked by a lot of things about Arthur. What was one more thing?

He seemed to calm though as Arthur continued, grooming his fingers across Alfred's thin lips, feeling the warmth of his breath ghosting over the pads of his finger. He touched the soft hairs of his eyebrows, noting they were considerably less thick than his own.

Skimming up, Arthur grinned excitedly as he reached his hairline. The soft strands tickled his fingers, sending little shivers up his spine. A soft hum from the younger encouraged him to sweep back the thick locks. Alfred had told him that he was a brunet, and had auburn eyes. Arthur had envisioned Alfred as having a shorter haircut, one he more associated with the military background Alfred came from. But he was pleasantly surprised by the fact that Alfred seemed to have long bangs and a shaggier cut than expected.

"I was right."

"About?"

"You being handsome," Arthur said as if it should have been obvious. The arms around him tightened, and Arthur chuckled, still playing with Alfred's hair.

Alfred simply watched and enjoyed. Arthur felt him, learned him in his own way. And it felt so strange and so incredible to give someone that opportunity. The blind man touched his skin and didn't see the surface. He had to imagine something deeper to picture Alfred. There were no tattoos and scars to bring about judgments. Only Alfred's words and actions reverberated with Arthur.

And he liked that. Getting to prove himself was a satisfaction. He had to show Arthur everything about him in his own way. Arthur only saw the real Alfred. Arthur saw the snake for its life, not for its shallow reputation.

"I think you're gorgeous," Alfred admitted, smiling as Arthur's hands stilled completely.

"M-me?"

But Alfred was not about to hear any insecurities while he had the smaller man in his lap.

"Absolutely."

"O-oh. Thank y-you?"

"Sure." Alfred pulled him close, cradling Arthur's head in the crook of his neck. The older curled up, nuzzling against him with a broad smile and startlingly scarlet blush. He'd often thought of what he might look like. He'd run his hands over his body countless times, but the mental image had never properly formed. Having gone blind as a young child, he had some very vague notion from looking in mirrors. Not once had he thought of himself as Alfred did though.

"Hey," the younger breathed against his ear. "You believe me, right?"

"Sure," Arthur mimicked, both chuckling to the inside joke. Alfred quickly sobered though.

"So you trust me?"

"Of course."

"Want to go out on the Harley with me?"

Arthur stilled, feeling a strange emotion swell up in his chest. He hadn't a clue what it was, didn't really get how it managed to stir his blood yet ease his mind all at once. All he knew was that it wasn't the fear he'd expected.

Breaking his silence, Arthur breathed his answer against Alfred's neck.

"I'd love too," and Arthur could practically feel the warmth of a brilliant smile lighting Alfred's face.

"I know 'thank you' is appropriate."

"Yes-"

"But I think this expresses my gratitude just a bit more." That said, Alfred pressed his lips to Arthur's, finally returning what he knew Arthur had been needing all along.

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**As always, reviews are appreciated. And go read Ahro's work ( www. fanfiction u/155727/Ahr0) and see her insanely beautiful artwork (ahr0. deviantart. com). She's got a tumblr too where you can get updates about her fics and our collab works ahro. tumblr. com**

**Announcements about my upcoming story event and updates including news about Fooling You, Risico and other projects can be found on my tumblr Hellieace. tumblr. com**


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